Combustible
by Tainted Heroine
Summary: "Next time, cry only when I can see you." In which forgiveness is damn near unattainable, and insanity is just over the horizon. OC x Alphonse, Modern AU.


"_Help…me…"_

_Mom..._

"_Help…"_

_A small hand wrapped around a silver revolver. _

"_No…wait. Don't!"_

_Bang!_

My eyes shot open.

I sat up fast, my sheets falling to my waist. My sleep-deprived eyes gazed into the semi-darkness of my bedroom. My skin glistened with sweat, my breaths were short. I looked to the right and saw my window open. My curtains sway with the gentle breeze coming from outside. I peeled the sheets from my lower body and clumsily made my way to the opposite side where the bathroom was.

I opened the door and I turn on the light. It's the same as it always is.

Bathroom door to the left of my bed. Open door, counter and sink to the left. Mirror above counter and sink. Cabinet below counter and sink. Next to counter and sink is tiny trash can. Next to tiny trash can is toilet. Next to toilet is shower.

I stared emptily at the porcelain tiles that made the floor. My body took control of itself and sluggishly turned to face the mirror.

This nightmare haunts me every single night. They have for sixteen years now. What happened was an accident. I was young, I had no idea what I was doing. Or, that's what I keep trying to tell myself. I never believed it.

I caught myself gawking in the mirror. I stared a little longer than I had meant to.

I noticed my raven-colored bedhead and the dark circles under my grey eyes. My eyes sting from crying in my sleep. Tear streaks are dried onto my fair skin. My sleeves from my overgrown nightgown are stained with tears and sweat. After a while, I turned away from the mirror and grabbed a washcloth from the cabinet. I turned the hot water knob inward toward the faucet. The water took a little while to get hot, so I walked into my bedroom and gathered my bed sheets. I then headed to the washroom.

The walk to the washroom is not very long. It just seemed like it because it was rather dark in my apartment, save for the slight sunrise peaking above the horizon. Down the hallway, take a left to the dining room, go straight and then there's the kitchen and then the door that leads to the outside washroom. I peered outside through the window over the sink. It was a quiet morning… I looked at the clock on my coffee pot. It read _5:36 a.m._

Oh, that's why.

I went through the door that led to outside, then I went through the washroom door. I hurriedly stuffed the bed sheets in the washing machine. I measured the clothes detergent, threw it in with the clothes, and turned the machine on hot, for forty-five minutes. My hand rested on my forehead as I walked back into my house. I stopped in my kitchen and leaned against the counter parallel to the sink. My forehead is hot, and the rest of my body is cold. My fingers feel icy against my face, and my face feels like hellfire against my fingers.

I hear my pulse in my ears. My blood ran cold, threatening freeze me solid. The light filters through the blinds now more than it did ten minutes ago, ridding the room of somber silhouettes. Without thinking twice, my nightgown went over my head and I was walking back into the washroom in my undergarments. My neighbors weren't awake yet, so none of them were going to see me. I forgot to take my bra off last night. Actually, I didn't. I just didn't feel like taking it off. Too much arm twisting.

The machine lid is opened, the nightgown is thrown inside, the lid is closed and the machine picked up where it left off. I glanced at the clock on my coffee pot once again. _5:47 a.m._

Oh shit, almost forgot that I left the hot water running in my bathroom. Right before I head down the hallway to my room, something scratches lightly against my door. I froze, startled.

_Meow!_

Oh, that's right. I did let Franco out last night. She probably needs to eat and piss.

As soon as I opened the door, she shot in quickly. She didn't exactly make a break for the food, though. She rubbed against my leg, her way of spreading her ivory colored "love". I bent down slightly and scratched behind her ears with my fingers. She mewed happily.

"Hey, sweet pea. You missed me?" My voice trembled as I whispered.

Franco mewed loudly in reply.

I put food in her bowl last night and gave her some fresh water. I scooped her potty, and I vacuumed off her favorite pillow, getting rid of all the excess hair and junk. That was the last thing I remembered doing before I fell asleep last night. Franco trotted away from me and her pace quickened when she saw that the food bowl was full. There are, usually, many different places that I choose to put her food bowl, but I forgot where I put it this time. Frank must have gotten used to my weird patterns; she automatically knew where it was when she saw it wasn't in its usual spot.

My back cracked a few times when I straightened myself up and stretched. I stood still for a moment and rubbed the back of my neck tenderly.

My buddy Al will be coming by soon. He usually comes between six and eight o'clock, so I have to be on the look-out. I never understood what made him want to come by my place every morning, but he's my only friend, so I can't really complain. He says that it's unhealthy to sleep the morning away. He's naturally an early bird, so it doesn't bother him to wake up at 4:30 a.m. Lucky him.

I need to get back to the bathroom, I forgot about the running water. Good thing I didn't plug the sink up. Plus, I need to clean myself up anyway.

I don't have school today, so I guess I'll go down to the tennis court. It's within walking distance, so I'll be okay. It's getting a little chilly, so a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie should do. If Al isn't busy today, maybe I can get him to come with me. We'll do like we usually do. We won't actually go to the tennis court to play tennis, but just to catch up on how our lives have been during and outside school. Even though he comes by in the mornings, we don't always see each other after that.

I think that it's sweet of him to come and check up on me in the mornings. But, I will never, ever, tell him that. He'sI've known him for over seven years and…

Okay, this is weird. I don't remember walking in the bathroom. Well, whatever.

I bit my bottom lip.

Apparently, I've already washed the dried tears off my face.

I quickly brushed my teeth twice, not missing a spot.

I walked over to the shower stall and turned the hot water tap on full blast. I tweaked it a little by adding a little cold water, and I was set after that. I stripped myself bare and stepped right in. The steam of the shower enveloped me, like a woolen blanket. The water hit the skin of my back and I let out a low hiss. My tense muscles loosened slowly, my shoulders slumped under the heat. This felt pretty amazing. I turned around and let my head soak underneath the warm water.

I suddenly turned the water cold. The freezing water flooded through the showerhead, almost as if it were anxious to consume me. I felt as if the water was going to freeze me into a human brick, but I didn't even flinch. Any normal person would flinch at the sudden contact of a cold wave, but I didn't even give a slight wince.

After a little while, I turned the hot water back on, letting the warmth envelop me once more. I'm probably the weirdest person in the world, but I actually think I could sympathize with the cold water.

I made sure to scrub myself silly, and when I was done, I stepped out. My eyes were open wider, my feet didn't drag across the floor anymore, and my movements were a bit more composed. I went in the cabinet and grabbed a dry towel. I took the dry towel and ruffled my hair with it a few times. It soon was wrapped around my body.

I glanced at the clock on my night stand. It read _6:23 a.m._

I heard a knock at the door.

I trekked down the hallway for the third time this morning, and got to the front door. I opened the door to see Al's golden eyes staring into my grey ones. He was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a dark green hoodie. His hood was down, showing off his golden-brown hair. He had his black backpack on one shoulder. He wore a brilliant smile.

"Good morning, sunshine!" He greeted.

"Good morning, Al." I stepped aside to let him in. "I was just about to get dressed."

He made his way to the couch and put his backpack on the floor near his feet. He stretched his arms out and then placed them behind his head. He leaned back. "Better hop to it, then." He grinned sweetly. I nodded.

As I went back to my room, I called back to Al, "You know, I actually thought about wearing a hoodie and sweatpants today."

"We seem to think alike. Don't we?"

"Yeah. You can make coffee, if you want."

"Alright." Came the aloof response. I heard some shuffling, which meant he took his shoes off and headed toward the kitchen. I was already in my room. My closet was adjacent to my bathroom, a small walk-in. I went through the shelves and found what I was looking for. A sports bra and a plain white tee, a pair of grey sweatpants and my favorite dark blue hoodie.

I take my time putting on my clothes. As I pulled on my sweats and nearly fell over, I glanced at my clock on my nightstand. _6:40 a.m._ were the characters that glared back at me. I slipped on my socks and a pair of black high tops. I pulled my hair from underneath my hoodie and went to my bathroom. I left the door wide open.

I picked up the brush from the counter and brushed my hair. My fingers held my hair into a ponytail as I brushed my hair in the general direction. My ear picked up some sort of noise in my room. I didn't look to see. I thought it would be Franco shuffling under my covers. Instead, Al pops in the doorway of my bathroom. He startled me, but I didn't flinch. I merely looked at him and resumed what I was doing.

Al was staring at me. I realized that I should have said something until he beat me to it. "You haven't been eating, have you?" His voice was laced with concern.

I didn't respond.

"Your cheeks are starting to sink again…"

No response from me. Again.

I grabbed a rubber band and pulled my hair into a ponytail at the back of my head. I reached for my favorite pair of diamond studs and put them on. I grabbed my favorite leather bracelet that Al gave me for my birthday one year. It said _"set yourself on fire"_. When most people read it, they think that it's suicidal. It's actually a part of a quote.

_happiness isn't a spontaneous combustion; you must set yourself on fire._

I'm too afraid of fire. I know the feeling too well. Then again, it could be a metaphor.

I turned towards the doorway that Al was standing in. He didn't look too happy. I tried to move past him, but he stepped in my way. I moved to the other side, and he blocked my path again. I didn't dare look him in the eyes. I didn't have the heart to.

"Look at me."

I let out a slow breath. I sunk my head down lower.

"Look at _me_."

Oh, God. He's about to scold me. I don't need scolding. I'm not a child. I look just fine…

That's a lie, and I know it.

He couldn't take it anymore and he took me by the face. He had a gentle, but firm grip. Al's eyes were darkened with sadness. "Why?"

"Wh-what?" I stammered. I tried to look away, but he wouldn't let me.

"You're not eating again. Why? We've talked about this! You need to take better care of yourself!"

"I am taking care of myself…" I grumbled indignantly. He scoffed.

Time seemed to stop, just for a second. His eyes continued to gaze into mine. My stomach fluttered again. He looked away first. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "Just take better care of yourself, Katherine." He dropped his hand and walked away, leaving me speechless.

I blinked a few times. I took deep breaths and tried to slow down my heart beat. I turned and looked in the mirror. Then I realized just how close we were. Even though I'm five foot six, Al is right at six feet tall, if not over. Our faces were so close to each other's. And he called me by my first name instead of my last.

Even though he called me by my first name, it felt weird. He usually calls me by my last name, O'Connor.

I brushed it off as quickly as I could.

Anyway. I think I should grab my wallet and get out of the room, because it began to feel slightly stuffy inside. My keys are in the kitchen, right next to the coffee pot. Where Al might be.

Slowly walking towards my window, my hands reached out to shut it tightly. I stuffed my wallet into my pants pocket, slipped on some black socks, and headed to the kitchen.

Al almost didn't hear me enter. He was looking for a cup to pour coffee in, and he turned his head slightly towards me in acknowledgement.

Next thing I know, backed me into the counter, his hands on either side of me, trapping me. I was too stunned to process what was happening. I tried to look away, but his eyes had me enthralled. It occurred to me how close we were, and I was planning to push him away. But, my arms remained limp at my sides. I tried my very hardest to mask my emotions, but I knew my eyes were telling the unbridled truth. Instead, I settled with looking away.

He spoke silently. "Why won't you take care of yourself, Katherine?" His sadness seeped through his voice.

I ignored that statement completely. "You called me by my first name, again."

His doleful features dissipated as his facial expression went neutral. I couldn't tell what he was thinking about. Then he said, "I like your first name. I thought I should start calling you that."

I still couldn't move my arms. I was beginning to feel slightly uncomfortable, being that he knows that I can't be too close to another human body for too long.

"We should make breakfast." I spoke. I think that he realized how awkward it was getting between us, too, because he almost immediately agreed.

"I'm cooking."

I groaned. "You cook all the time, Al. Why can't you let me cook?"

He looked up from the fridge temporarily. "I can't let a lady do all the work." He smiled. Then, he went back to searching.

"Lemme see…." I heard him say. "You've got eggs, turkey bacon…. Pancake mix. There's some oatmeal in the cabinets, too…"

I didn't know he went through the cabinets. That goes to show how much I'm paying attention.

"Want coffee?"

"Sure."

He got out all the things he wanted to make for both of us and began cooking.

This room is too quiet. Save for the sizzling. So I spoke, "I was gonna go to the tennis court today."

"Oh, really? I don't have anything to do today, so I was going to ask you the same thing. Are you sure our minds aren't connected in some weird way?"

Oh, Al. "Nope." I paused for a second. "I think I'm turning into an insomniac."

"Oh? Why's that? Nightmares nipping at your brain again?"

Weary sigh. "Always."

Bacon's done. And the pancakes. He made cinnamon blueberry pancakes with banana. "I don't remember buying blueberries," I mused aloud.

"You didn't. I did. Last Thursday, you weren't here. I think you went to Resembool? Something about a funeral."

Oh, yeah. My aunt Tina did pass away recently. One of the few relatives that don't hate me for what I did as a child. Apparently, Al was still talking, because Al's voice cut in my thoughts, "…you know, I've never seen you in a dress. Or a skirt."

And if I can help it, you never will. Happy bastard.

"When do you want to leave?" I asked quietly as he made his way to the table with both of our plates. He sat the plate on the placemat in front of me gently. I watched as the steam from the freshly cooked food rose into the seemingly stagnant air of the dining room.

"I was hoping that we could hang here for a while, since we both don't have anything important to do today. Maybe we could head to the tennis court around nine? If that's okay with you."

"Um," I was hesitant. But then again, leaving would give me a chance to clear my head. I still felt anxious. "I wanted to go early because there would be less noise…"

Al sat down in the chair across from me. He looked at me with such spirited eyes. Then he said, "Whatever you're comfortable with." There was a certain look in his eyes. I couldn't tell what it was.

Whatever it was, I'm glad I didn't figure it out. I would have lost my composure if I did

I zoned out. Again. I know I did because Al looked at me like I was some weirdo. He waved his hand in front of my face frantically. "Hey! Can you hear me in there?" He knocked on my head like it was a wooden door. I winced. "That hurt!"

He frowned slightly. "It wouldn't hurt that much if you would stop zoning out."

My hand rubbed my forehead tenderly, careful not to agitate the general area of where he knocked. He laughed at me, and an unusually warm feeling grew in the middle of my chest. I tried not to stare so much as Al frolicked around in his own mirth. I kept a blank expression on my face. As I began to eat, I felt the corners of my mouth turn upwards, just a little.


End file.
